


Innocence Lost, Yet Free

by ValaiTheRando



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, My First AO3 Post, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27611948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValaiTheRando/pseuds/ValaiTheRando
Summary: The short description from a detective's point of view when faced a young woman found in an alley way.





	Innocence Lost, Yet Free

**Author's Note:**

> More or less a rather short monologue that went through my mind during a slow night at work. I'm not entirely sure if this is worth the M rating, however I'm cautiously trying to move from FF.net.
> 
> Comments and thoughts are welcome.

She had been beautiful, sitting against a wall of stone in a darkened alley way. Her body was of an average height, though she carried a tight hourglass for a figure, anyone would have called her a dream. It was clear that at some point she was a young woman whom people loved before she was swallowed up by the streets.

Her pale skin marred with the tracks that told the world that she was a slave to her addition was a dead give away to her tragic tale.

The young woman’s face was painted in the façade of a late night trick; her lips painted a sinful red while her eyelids hosted a shimmering blue. The color went well with her hair, a rich river of copper threads spilled over her shoulders and down her back. Her high cheeks dusted in a gentle virgin pink. Her clothing nearly clung to her like a second skin, revealing as much of her skin as it could while still leaving enough to tease the late night animals.

Whoever had her last clearly wasn’t fond of sharing, they left her broken and battered. Maybe her handler was tired of her, or she was tired of turning tricks.  
Personally the one thing I would mourn being taken from this world was her eyes. Behind her glassy haze were orbs of rich hazel, I can only hope the last person who spent the day with her savored the way her eyes changed in color pending on how she felt or how the light hit them.

This nameless puppet, this young life that was inevitably cut short was stolen from the world. Her dreams and ambitions stolen from her by someone’s sick and twisted design. She had been beautiful, but that beauty was lost to world. She would only be known as another nameless whore passed from corner to corner to fill someone else’s pocket.

Of all the things I wish I could forget, it was the way that her death mask seemed to smile, a relieved yet innocent smile of freedom.


End file.
